


to paint a symphony

by Arzani



Category: The Watchmaker of Filigree Street - Natasha Pulley
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, vision of sound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arzani/pseuds/Arzani
Summary: Their life is painted in a swirl of colorful tunes.





	

„Would you just lay still?”

The mattress bent under his weight, his elbow forming a dent while his free hand pressed Keita back into the sheets. Eyebrows furrowed at the demand, a snort tinting the room golden.

“I can assure you that nothing you possibly want to do will hurt as much as not making it worth the pleasure,” Keita answered him, pressing himself up against his hand. The skin was warm, the heart beating under the rips and the fire cracked silently. Fingers curled around Thaniel’s wrist, trying to pull him away. He steadied his hold and the pulling became stronger, until the hand dropped. A sharp sound of pain dotted the watchmaker’s gold red.

“Why did you not stop?” Thaniel asked ruefully, using his arm to steady now, gliding the body back into the cushions. The tanned skin looked even more oriental against the ordinary bed linen. “You’d known this would happen.”

“It was worth the try. And I liked the unlikely possibility more. At least it is what I assume now,” Keita said, making Thaniel flinch.

“You’re hopeless. Now lay still, before your voice is painted even more red.” He slid down the body, letting his mouth follow his hands, feeling Keita shiver. Quirking his lips, he settled between invitingly spread legs.

“My voice is not red,” Keita snapped and as to prove a point the red dots made way for the golden shimmering. Thaniel glanced at it, smiling softly, before he licked his lips.

“Shut up,” he said, warmly, and his head lowered. To his delight, he was faced with compliance, feeling fingertips stroke his scalp. Elicited moans exploded like fireworks, yet Thaniel barely recognize them, too focused on creating paintings only he would ever see.

* * *

“What’s wrong,” Thaniel mumbled, still caught in the web of sleep, while he felt rustling next to him. It sounded like snow falling, making him want to paint with more color. The thought vanished, when calloused fingers stroke his hair, soothing him back into the darkness.

“Sleep.”

And he did, giving into the temptation of not having to stand up early on weekends. When his eyelids fluttered open again, he heard a muffled tune through the floor. Flowers on a field seeped through the cracks, spiraling together mercilessly. Rubbing his eyes, Thaniel pushed back the blanket and slipped into pants. It was unlikely for Six to come in, as Keita was obviously downstairs, but other to the Japanese he couldn’t know.

The flowery field of sound followed him, as he walked downstairs. Keita sat on the piano chair, posture crouched as he played. He stopped before Thaniel could say it was bad for his still bandaged chest.

“You’re sounding hennish,” Keita said and turned, looking at him with narrowed eyes. It didn’t hinder Thaniel from sitting on the small space that was left for him.

“Where’s Six?” he asked in return, brushing his leg at Keita’s who looked at the opposite wall, checking the time on a bonsai-shaped clock. For a moment, there was silence, then he answered, “outside, playing at the stream. She’s back in an hour.”

“Dunking the Haverly Boys?”

“Not very likely,” Keita said and it made Thaniel hum in amusement. The girl was Keita’s official apprentice since a week now, but not one clock more or less had been wound up. He pressed some keys, letting grass green leaves dance.

“What have you been playing?” Thaniel asked, remembering the tune that reminded of a spring day. It had been quite lovely, a big picture in front of his eyes, but with too much green and too less chaos.

“It’s a composition you will create. I don’t know the name, yet.”

“What?” He looked at Keita with surprise, wanting to tell him he was talking rubbish, but knowing too well he wasn’t. “Play it again!”

“I can’t,” Keita answered ruefully, turning his head away and furrowed his brows. “I forgot.”

Somehow Thaniel knew it was due to him not enjoying the green and therefore changing the arrangement to his better liking. He wondered how it could be his own composition, when it needed Keita to play it, to make his mind up whether he liked what he would compose or not. His brain didn’t allow him to think this through, so he rather squeezed the knee touching his and stood. Tea wasn’t making itself.

“I like some, too,” Keita said, and Thaniel nodded, to fetch himself breakfast. Pushing his body up, he slid his hand over the still crouched back, propping it straight. A hiss reached his ear, filled with sharp red pain. “You’re not my nurse.”

Even though it sounded waspish, it left Thaniel smile softly, and he continued to slide up the back until he touched Keita’s neck. Stroking it lightly, he enjoyed the growl directed at him.

“You’re still angry about yesterday’s night,” he suspected amusedly, but Keita only clapped his hand away and shooed him off.

“Make tea already,” was answered, so Thaniel stood, finally and walked to the kitchen, leaving Keita in the parlor, who mumbled something about not being able to be angry. The golden tinted words made Thaniel recall the pleasured sounds, exploding between their connected bodies firework-like. There was a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

* * *

Even after such a long time of learning Japanese, Thaniel still couldn’t decide whether the writing wasn’t more like drawing. He sat on the table, a sheet of paper in front of him and the dictionary next to it. The edges were in tatters, showing his constant improvement. Today though he wasn’t improving. He rather watched Keita and Six working on a pocket watch. With slow but precise movements and words the process of winding it up was explained.

“You’ll know how to wind a clock too, if you keep on listening,” Keita said after a while, his voice dry. The young girl looked at him with an expression that was close to sticking out her tongue spitefully. It would be a long way before she trusted him fully.

“Then it’s not wasted time,” he answered, amused. The two were sitting at the other end of the table, Keita crouched, while Six barely managed to look over the table top. He wished Keita would take more care of his health.

“Do not dare,” was said and it made Thaniel roll his eye. He had wanted to point it out, but with a man like Keita it was not needed.

“I don’t.”

“Good!” Keita said and then turned back to Six, who regarded him with irritation. They should mind that she wasn’t understanding their conversations most of the time.

“Should I not dare something, too?” she asked and it made Thaniel laugh, while Keita shook his head and went on explaining. His voice shimmered like the watch he was holding and created a melody in Thaniel’s mind that he wished to capture forever. Slipping off his stool, he took pen and pencil with him to the piano and sat down in front of it. Remembering what Keita had played in the morning, he started to write it down, crossing out the parts he didn’t like and filling the gaps with new tunes. In the background sounds of the workroom blended into his own played painting.

“Mr. Mori, what is Mr. Steepleton doing?” Thaniel could hear over a moment of silence, his upper body bent forward to write down a passage.

“He is composing a play.”

“What is composing?” she asked at the answer given. Wanting to listen, Thaniel stopped for a moment, freezing in his posture.

“It is playing a melody you make up yourself and then writing it down,” Keita explained simply and he could imagine Six tilting her head in incomprehension.

“I want to do that, too,” she demanded, in a way that let Thaniel know she only wanted to learn, to impress. But that was okay. Before Keita she never had anyone to impress. And Keita had nobody to be impressed by.

“Then you’ll have to ask Mr. Steepleton if he teaches you.”

Silence followed the answer and in the absence of color, Thaniel realized Keita had done this on purpose, to improve his relationship with Six. Closing his eyes, he started to hum the melody in his mind, parts of it changing. This time Six was woven into it, too, her silver tinted voice the bassline of his life with the watchmaker.

Grace had never understood that a watchmaker only wanted for his clockwork to improve and be steady like the time flew. Things done on purpose were not necessarily bad. Thaniel would never believe something different.

* * *

Rain was pouring down on him as Thaniel walked the way from the train station to Filigree Street. A steady gray splashing of the drops on his umbrella followed him. By now the fingers around the handle were blue from the cold.

“Tea’s in the kitchen,” sounded over to him the moment he opened the door to the workroom and it made him smile. “And some scones. Bring one for Six, as well, please!”

Placing his dripping umbrella into a corner and slipping out of his coat, he saw Keita write something down into what seemed to be a notebook. As he used the right sheet, it must be in English. Six was watching curiously.

He gave the two of them another glance, before he slipped into the kitchen, to place some scones on a plate and pour himself a cup of green tea. As he returned, Six was holding the pen and her brows were furrowed in concentration.

“You’re teaching her how to write,” Thaniel said, forgetting his own piece of paper in his pocket.

“And how to read. She needs to be able to produce inlays.”

“Will you teach her Japanese, too?”

“No, you will.”

The answer made Thaniel tilt his head, but he accepted it amusedly. He could refuse and Keita would accept it, but in this certain case he didn’t want to. There were many occasions he didn’t want to refuse anything.

They both watched Six try to write her own name. It looked horrible, but Thaniel assumed his beginnings hadn’t looked any better. “We can’t call her Six forever.”

“But I am Six,” the girl refused, telling the men she was indeed listening closer than they expected. Small fingers were still wrapped around the pen. Thaniel’s eventually turned back to a normal color.

“You’re Six all right - until you’re ten and then you’re Elisabeth,” Keita mumbled, the first part loud enough for Six to hear, the second only audible for Thaniel’s ears. ‘That’s a nice name,’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say it, yet. Keita still remembered.

“Don’t you want to finally tell me about the telegram you got?” Keita asked after they had watched Six struggle with the pen for another moment. The hand was brushing Thaniel’s over the rim of his teacup, when the other reached for a scone. It gave him courage, especially with the knowledge Keita didn’t like scones.

“You know what it says,” Thaniel said slowly, feeling the paper at his hip. The moment of ignorance had been a blessing.

“I forget if you don’t tell me.”

He sighed, fishing for it and placed it on the table. It was crumbled but still legible. His own handwriting seemed off to himself somehow. Keita gave it only a glance before he turned and entangled their fingers in the security of the invisibility the table top granted.

“You’re afraid of meeting her. Why?” Keita went on, before he nudged Six who had started drawing instead of writing her name. She growled, but tried it again. It almost looked good. Then he pressed Thaniel’s hand, stopping him from speaking before he could. “The scenery doesn’t make sense. None of them does, to be precise.” It elicited another sigh.

“She will say things I don’t want to hear.”

“You’re divorcing her. It’s only legitimate she’s angry, even though she shouldn’t because she will get her house, her lab and Matsumoto.” Keita’s voice was indifferent, golden and a little bit spiteful. The grip at his hand became stronger. Possessive almost.

“I don’t care what she says about me,” he answered and somehow his own grip was even more possessive than Keita’s could be. Dark eyes widened before there was a smile. Thaniel didn’t need to keep on speaking, now.

* * *

He had agreed to meet Grace at a vernissage, tomorrow. It was simple. He would look at the paintings, then look at the documents, then he would sign them and before the night would be over, Grace had her house and Thaniel was free. Piano music sounded from the parlor.

But he also knew she would insult Keita, again and this time Thaniel wasn’t sure if he would be able to keep his mouth shut. There were people; nobleman, Belgravian ladies, policemen. A slip of voice could break his life. Their connected lives. The tune changed, colors swirled.

Six was leaning at Thaniel. She had finally swallowed her pride and let her curiosity win. Now she would learn how to play the piano, as she had asked him to train her. It had broken down walls, after she had let them built for too much days. They had spent a long hour in front of the clavier, and some more in front of a music sheet. Now her soft breath told everyone listening close enough she was sleeping. Again, the melody of the play changed.

It would be foolish not to go to the vernissage. Keita would tell him if things went down badly. At least if the possibility was high enough. Nothing would happen other than him being what he always was: Thaniel Steepleton. A clerk. A pianist. A man living with his watchmaker. Somehow the play sounded like it had in the beginning. There were ice-dotted spots.

His eyes closed in exhaustion and he rubbed them before he opened the lids again. His back leaned against the wooden rest of the workbench. Six’s breath drew silver lines into the air. Maybe he could go to the vernissage, sign the documents and leave again. No need to stay longer than needed. He would have time to find some music sheets easy enough for Six to play. Or he could compose something himself. The melody staggered, the constant tint of colors making blobs, mixing, rearranging, creating something new.

He wished Grace would have at least a little understanding for Keita and him. But she hadn’t. And it only bothered Thaniel that he had let it come to it in the first place. But maybe it was good, so he had realized this was what he wanted. This place, this time, this moment. Six sleeping at his side and Keita playing his composition. Something shifted in the melody again, reminding Thaniel of the growth of the clockwork pears. A new life growing.

Then the music stopped, and the colors faded.

Steps announced Keita, silently to not wake their sleeping rascal. She was irritatingly angelic like this. Thaniel liked her better when she was loud and wild and alive. It would change soon enough.

“Have you made up your mind already? It’s causing me a headache,” Keita said, eventually, as he had sat himself next to Thaniel, on his free side. An arm was wrapped around the slim shoulders.

“I guess.”

“You didn’t. Stop it. I’m not sure what’s possible or not anymore,” was growled and Keita slapped him lightly on the stomach. Instead of jerking, he accepted it and reached for the fingers with his free hand. Turning, Thaniel looked into Keita’s eyes, drowning in the reflection of the electric lights. This time they didn’t need to turn it off, when they kissed.

“It will be okay. Everything’s okay,” Keita murmured soothingly, when they let go, brushing the roughed-up cheek. He would have to shave in the morning.

“What if not?” It was spoken just as low as Keita’s words, but with much more concern.

“Then we will make it okay. There is always a possibility that’ll work for us.”

And no matter Thaniel didn’t have to ask, he still wanted to, to show he cared. And to imprint this moment into Keita’s memory forever.

“You are certain.”

And he was.

“You just finished your symphony.”


End file.
